


Crash Landing

by eriwrtr



Category: EXO (Band), Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, EXOVelvet, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27820195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eriwrtr/pseuds/eriwrtr
Relationships: Kim Yerim | Yeri/Oh Sehun
Kudos: 3





	Crash Landing

**“Ladies and Gentlemen,** this is your pilot speaking. Please fasten your seatbelts. We need to make an emergency landing.”

As someone who has battled a fear of flying for most of my life, these are the last words I want to hear. My stomach crawls into the back of my throat, making me sick with fear, and my hands tighten on the narrow armrest. Around me, the few passengers this small propeller aircraft contains sounds of dismay and alarm. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten on this flight. These small aircraft simply shouldn’t be put in the sky. The plane is too small, with only twenty or so of us on board. I’m amazed the pilot didn’t just crane his neck around and yell his announcement to us, rather than using the intercom. What was even happening? I hadn’t noticed anything wrong with the plane but I’m guessing the pilot probably knows a hell lot more than I do, so who am I to argue?

 _Its okay, Ye,_ I tell myself. It’s probably just a precaution...or maybe a newfangled type of airplane fire drill.

Nevertheless, I don’t intend to be the one to get caught out. I scrabble under my seat, checking the lifejacket where it’s supposed to be. As I glanced up, I noticed the guy next to me checking out my legs. Damn, I knew I should have worn my pants. I flip my dark hair over one shoulder and shoot him a scowl.

“If we’re going down,” he says. “I at least want to go down with a good view.”

“How about we just concentrate on surviving,” I snipe back.

A bang somewhere deep in the belly of the aircraft makes me shriek and the plane drops several hundred feet, falling out of the sky. My shriek turns into a scream, my stomach left somewhere far above my head.

But the aircraft finds its equilibrium once more.

I find myself grasping my seat’s armrest, but the hand of the guy next to me is beneath mine. I snatch my hand back. My heart is pounding, my breathing frantic. As the plane descends, my ears pop, leaving a strange crackling sound deep in my head. I squeeze my eyes shut and get myself into the braced position, my forearms crossed against the back of the seat in front of me, my face buried into my arms. I can tell the plane is quickly losing height and I pray we’ll make it to one of the islands.

I risk turning my head to peer out of the window, but only clouds are below us. I have no idea if we are above land or only the expanse of a blue ocean.

The plane drops again and I can’t help the scream of fear that bursts from my lungs. I don’t want to die. I’m supposed to be starting a job as a research assistant in a marine laboratory on one of the islands. The position has been my dream ever since I’ve been able to say the words ‘marine biologist’ and I can’t believe my dreams may end before they even got started.

The man next to me leans in. “We’re not going to die,” he says, somehow smug in his certainty. “Look at the flight attendant. She wouldn’t be so calm if we were all about to die.”

The young blonde is strapped into her seat. Her hands are in her lap, grasped together, and she is staring down at them. She looks plenty nervous to me.

“I hope you’re right,” I say, feeling it is an inappropriate moment to start a fight. I know I can be difficult at times. But I don’t want the very last thing I do on earth to be arguing my point. The plane suddenly plunges through the clouds and when we emerge again the welcomes sight of green is beneath us. What I also see is a trail of grey smoke from the right propeller.

“Oh shit.”

My new companion leans over me again, trying to see what’s wrong now. He frowns at the sight of the smoke.

“That’s not good.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You sure have a way of understating things.”

The plane’s nose dips, throwing me forward, but the belt cinches around my waist, just about preventing me from slamming right into the hard plastic tray imbedded in the back of the seat. I suddenly understand the importance of the brace position. It could save my face from being mashed.

“Oh, please God,” I pray under my breath. “Please let me get out of this alive.”

I risk another glance out of the window and the ground is hurtling toward us at a terrifying rate. People scream and cry around me. I bite my lower lip and concentrate on praying, just waiting for the impact to come. But at the last moment, the nose lofts again and I hear the distinct sound and feel of the jolt of the wheels coming down.

The plane hits the ground, wheels first, and jumps back into the air. It bounces a couple more times, like a baby heron attempting its first flight, and then I feel the grounding as it lands, but not fully. These grassy fields clearly aren’t runways.

The plane skids sideways, across the green land and I dare to glance out of the window only to see a wall of grey rock heading toward me.

“Oh shit!” I want to get away, but I fumble with my belt, desperately trying to undo it. The velocity of the plane slows, but still the face of rock gets closer, filling my small porthole window, and I give up on the belt and put myself back in the brace position. The plane collides sideways against the cliff. From all round me comes the high-pitch sound of metal bending and tearing and the reinforced glass of the small window bursts inwards, showering me. Chaos explodes inside the plane. People cry and shout to each other. Someone gets up and pops the emergency exit on the other side of the plane, and the emergency slide folds outward, inflating.

I try to get up, to join the flow of people heading toward the exit, but I can’t move. It takes me a moment to figure out what is holding me back. My leg is trapped, a part of the buckled side of the plane crushed in, catching my leg beneath the seat. I turn to the guy next to me as he rises from his seat.

“Help me,” I say, reaching out to him. He shoots me a wide-eyed glance, his face pale and drawn, before giving a slight shake of his head and joining the small stream of people fleeing the plane. I give my leg another good yank and moan as pain spears up through my calf. My world greys out for a moment, my head swimming. I can’t believe this is happening to me.

I look up to see a man with chocolate brown eyes looking down at me. My eyes flick to his uniform: the crisp white shirt, lapels with two bands of gold thread, smart black pants.

“Don’t worry,” the pilot tells me, his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll get you out of here”

“You landed the plane,” I say. He grins displaying a row of white teeth. “Yeah, only just.”

He gets on his hands and knees and I can feel him prodding and probing around my trapped leg. “Can you get me out?”

“I think so. Just hang on.” He is as strong as he looks, bending metal back to free my limb and I fall into his arms.

“Thank you so much,” I say, tears running down my cheeks.

“It’s the least I can do. Now let’s get you out of here.”

He slips a muscular arm around my waist and carefully lifts me from my seat. I wrap my arms around his neck and allow myself to be carried. We burst out into bright sunshine and I wince in its glare. My pilot gathers me closer to his chest, pausing at the top of the emergency slide.

“Are you ready?” he asks. I’ve already lost my heels, so I nod against him. In one fluid motion, he leaps. I cling to him tighter as we slide down the inflatable slide and land at the bottom in a heap.

"Don't worry," he addresses the small crow of shaken passengers. "I got an emergency call in before we went down, together with our coordinates. Someone will be coming to find us."

Everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief. Other than the smoking airplane, we are in paradise. The jagged cliff we crashed into towers over grassy plain and palm trees. Between their leafy fronds, the blue ocean peeps at us.

“What’s your name?” the pilot asks me.

“Yerim Kim. Yours?”

“Sehun Oh.”


End file.
